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Dusk

A poem

Photo by Kristijan Arsov on Unsplash

Dusk at another airport
One can see the heat hanging
A yellow orb is low in the sky

Slowly turning to egg yolk
And then mango

Sinking slowly as a goodbye
Turning the color of oranges
Finally some red markings
As that sun drops away
Minutes pass, the clouds celebrate
With pink, pale red, apricot, and aqua

2

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by madswirl.com and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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